


A Lesson in Stupidity

by SexyFruitNugget



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, F/F, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:50:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4277472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SexyFruitNugget/pseuds/SexyFruitNugget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Running from the past is never easy, but Thomas has always been known to make his life especially difficult. He just never thought he'd have to add falling for someone who wasn't his soul mate to the top of his long list of bad decisions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So it Goes

_7 missed calls._

            Thomas cursed looking down at his blinking phone while he fumbled with a glass plate. He nearly dropped the plate in his rush to put it away but he caught it just as started to clink against the countertop. It was fine—mostly. There was only a small chip on it but since Thomas had already broken six (okay maybe more like sixteen) dishes since he’d started working at The Noodle Bowl, Thomas would take it as a successful catch.

            “Did I hear you break another one?!” Brenda yelled from the front desk. Thomas sheepishly glanced at her through the beads hanging in the open doorway.

            “It’s totally fine! No need to report anything to the boss!” He called back. He could practically feel her smirk all the way in the kitchen. Thomas could see that she had her feet resting on the checkout counter and was leaning back in a squeaky chair she had commandeered because—and Thomas quotes—“she would not freaking stand all day in a restaurant that had no god damned customers anyway.”

            Thomas finished his last dish when he picked up his phone. Most of the calls were from his mom and he felt a ball of guilt rise in his chest. She had been so worried ever since he left home less than a month ago. He hated having her worry about him. He couldn’t blame her. He had left so abruptly and she knew he could be in danger… He scrolled down his missed calls to see if they were all from his mom, only for the ball of guilt to turn into burning worry. _Speak of the devil_. Thomas thought to himself. Right there was the reason for him having to abandon his home and move to Denver.

            _1 Missed call:_

_WCKD_

            Thomas hit the delete button so fast he was sure the screen would shatter. He could only be glade he configured his phone so that they wouldn’t be able to track him. Hell, he didn’t know if they would but at this point he wouldn’t put it past them.

            He took a deep breath to calm himself before putting WCKD out of his mind. Instead of dwelling he turned toward the beaded doorway that led to the seating area of the restaurant. “I’m gonna take a call, Brenda! Yell if the boss comes in, yeah?”

            “Yeah, Yeah, sure,” she drawled while waving her hand in the air absentmindedly. Thomas rolled his eyes and went to dial his mom back when Brenda spoke up. “Wait a sec, Tom! You might want to wait on that call ‘cause it looks like we actually have some customers!”

            Thomas sighed and slipped his phone back in his pocket. The Noodle Bowl rarely had customers which was why Tom and Brenda were currently the only one’s working there. When Thomas had rushed to Denver he hadn’t had a lot of choice in where he lived. He was able to get a dingy little apartment on the side of a busy road. His lack of funds meant he could barely afford gas so his choice of job was basically narrowed down to what was within a mile radius of his housing. It was either The Noodle Bowl or working retail at a bridal store. Considering Thomas knew nothing about dresses and didn’t feel like getting yelled at by angry brides he thought The Noodle Bowl would be his best bet.

            Brenda had welcomed him with open and grateful arms. The boss, who was nearly never there, had had her working as the cook, busboy, waitress, and hostess. As far as Thomas was concerned she should have sued the boss for unjust treatment, but now that he was there she seemed a lot less frazzled than the tired looking girl he had originally met. He took over the busboy and cooking jobs which he personally felt was a terrible idea considering he’d never cooked a day in his life, but who was he to question the boss?

            Brenda peaked her head through the curtain of beads throwing a slip of paper at him. “Three medium briskets, a small steak bowl, and a thing of spring rolls. Don’t be a slint head and fuck this up again,” she said with a cheeky grin.

            “Thanks for the confidence boost,” Thomas mumbled while pulling out a pot to boil water in. His mind started to wander while he went through the motions of making the dishes. The steam from the soup started to make there become uncomfortable moisture underneath the metal band wrapped around his right wrist. He rubbed a hand around it, trying to make the feeling go away. The metal bands weren’t uncommon. In fact, almost everyone wore one around the time they turned sixteen. They were soul-name covers.

            Soul-names were something almost everyone got in between the ages sixteen to twenty. At some point during this time a name would appear on the right wrist of the person in a blue ink. The name would be the person best suited to be with them for the rest of their life, or quite plainly, their soulmate. The metal soul-name covers were a bit of a formality and a way to have privacy. When a person got their name, they would often cover it as it was supposed to be rude to show it off. Thomas didn’t really see the point of them. His always itched and now that he had a job cleaning and cooking it had become quite a nuisance—often getting bubbles trapped under it when he was doing dishes.

            “TOM!” Brenda called, waving her hands in the doorway to get his attention. Thomas blinked and looked up at the doorway, realizing she had probably been calling him for a while now. He wasn’t used to anyone calling him Tom. As a kid he had hated anyone ever calling him that, but now that he was trying to fly under WCKD’s radar he thought it would be a good thing to change his name. In retrospect he probably should have changed it to something that couldn’t be linked back to the name Thomas but he just couldn’t let go of his name. WCKD had already changed so much about him he couldn’t allow them to take something else that was so central to him.

            “Earth to Tom?” Thomas blinked again before an embarrassed blush spread on his face.

            “Shit, Brenda. I’m sorry. I must have been zoning out. What do you need?” Thomas asked.

            Brenda rolled her eyes. “The customers want to know if you’re almost done?” She asked, raising an arched eyebrow.

            Thomas set the bowls on a tray and handed them to her. She gave him a cheeky salute and headed out to serve their only customers. Thomas turned back to the kitchen and sighed. There wasn’t really anything else to do unless they got more customers and he didn’t feel like calling his mom now. He was sure he’d get berated for not calling her right away so what would a few more hours hurt?

            Thomas headed through the beaded doorway and sat in Brenda’s usual seat next to the hostesses’ desk. It was as if she could sense someone was in her seat because she instantly turned away from the group of teens she was serving, scowling. “Tom, you will get out of my seat or you will face what will feel like the wrath of a thousand angry Voldemorts.”

            He raised an eyebrow at her and smirked, making no move to get out of the seat. Brenda stomped over, grinning at the challenge and began whacking him with the serving tray. He laughed trying to wrestle it out of her grip. It wasn’t the first time they acted like idiots to pass the boredom of working at The Noodle Bowl.

            He was laughing while squirming to get out of Brenda’s headlock, her soulname cover digging into the side of his neck, when he happened to glance over at the table with the customers.

            The group was watching them wrestle and Thomas could feel his face flush. There was four of them and they looked about his age. They couldn’t have been more than nineteen, but they all had something in their expressions that made them look like they’d seen more than any nineteen year old should. Thomas was sure he’d seen them come to The Noodle Bowl before, but he’d never gotten a good look at them.

            There was a buff Asian boy looking at them with an amused smile with a sullen dark haired boy sitting next to him. He didn’t look nearly as amused as he glared at Brenda and him. Sitting across from the two boys was a pretty girl with long dark hair who was looking at them curiously.

            Thomas’s attention then turned to the boy sitting next to the pale girl. Thomas felt so much heat rise in his face he simply did not want to know how red his face was.

            The boy was lovely. He looked so delicate Thomas felt like there should be body guards surrounding the boy at all times just to make sure he wouldn’t break. He was thin and so pale Thomas was sure he could see his veins all the way from across the room. It looked as though his very skin could tare at the lightest touch. All of his soft features were offset by a set of dark eyes—that were apparently watching Thomas the entire time he was ogling him. Thomas looked away, cursing under his breath at having been caught staring.

            “What was the slint head?” Brenda asked, releasing him out of her headlock and pushing him on the shoulder playfully. She looked confused at the sight of his flushed face and then turned to glance at the customers. “Aw, is little Tom embarrassed by the nosey customers,” she teased, smacking his cheek affectionately. Tom batted her hand away and stuck his tongue out at her, temporarily forgetting the beautiful stranger. He glanced back at the stranger to find he was still watching him. He looked away again, the blush returning full force. He couldn’t believe he was acting like a love struck middle school kid.

            “Oh, wait a second here,” Brenda said glancing between the group and Thomas, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Do you have a crush?” She exclaimed, a twinkling light in her eye. “Oh Oh! You like the pretty girl don’t you? Go talk to her!” Brenda started babbling at what seemed like a mile per minute and Thomas frantically clamped his hand over her mouth.

“I _do not_ have a crush,” he began but looked over at the group to see that they were _all_ watching Brenda and him. He gave them an awkward smile which turned into a grimace of pain when Brenda bit his hand. “Ow!” he yelled, shaking his hand back and forth. “You bit me!”

“Duh,” Brenda replied, causing Thomas to scowl. He turned, stalking back to the kitchen to avoid any further embarrassment.

            “Aw, come on Tom! Don’t be mad!” Brenda said chasing him through the beaded curtain. “She’s really pretty and you totally have a shot! I was just teasing! If you think she’s that good looking I’m sure she wouldn’t mind being asked—“

            “I don’t like the girl, Brenda!” Thomas said, interrupting her. “Just drop it, it’s nothing,” he said, turning to rewash a dish to keep himself busy.

            Brenda was oddly silent. Thomas looked up at her, getting ready to apologize for being so snappy when he saw she still had her trademark smirk on her face.

            “Oh I _see,”_ Brenda said, her grin resembling that of a hyenas. Thomas backed away, looking concerned. “You don’t have a crush on the girl ‘cause you like her friend don’t you? The pretty blonde boy?”

            Thomas felt his heart pound in his chest. “I don’t—“ he began but Brenda cut him off with a wave of her hand.

            “I don’t care if you’re gay Tom. I’m not exactly riding the straight train myself.”

            Thomas was surprised, but felt a rush of relief spread through him. He laughed. “Yeah, I think the boy’s cute, but it doesn’t matter. He’s probably on a date with that girl anyway,” he said, the realization of that possibility hitting him like a bucket of ice water.

            “Oh please, he’s cute. You’re cute. What do you have to lose?” She asked, crossing her arms.

            “My dignity,” Thomas replied. “Besides, I just moved here. I’m not really looking for a relationship,” he added as an afterthought. The last thing he wanted was to drag some poor soul into the drama that was going on with WCKD. He shuddered at the thought.

            “Oh no, I’m not letting you make excuses. Not on my watch. Besides he’s always been really nice when I take his order. I totally approve. Aaand I know for a fact that both him and his friends all live in the house a block down from mine so if you guys got a little flirtationship going it would give you reason to actually visit me more often,” she said in a singsong voice.

            “Now I see why you want this to happen. You just want me to come visit you,” Thomas said amused, but he couldn’t help the little thrill that ran through him at her words. Could he actually start a relationship with this guy?

            “I know what that face means,” she said, waving a finger in his face, “That means you’re thinking too hard about this so let me be a doll and make the decision for you,” she said patting him on the shoulder. “It seems I have come down with a bad case of the stomach flu. Right now. Immediately. I’m going to be in the bathroom for god knows how long which means,” she paused for dramatic effect, “you have to get the bill from lover boy.”

            Thomas opened his mouth to protest, but she sauntered out the doorway before he could get a word out.

            _Shit. Shit. Shit._

He loved Brenda but at this moment he could really strangle her. He took a deep breath. He would be fine. All he had to do was get the bill from the table. There was no need for him to interact with the group at all. In fact, he would try to avoid the beautiful boy at all costs. He didn’t need a relationship. It should be the last thing on his mind.

            Thomas ran a hand through his hair, squared his shoulders, and walked through the beads.

            The group seemed even more intimidating now that he was walking toward them. They all looked incredibly poised, each decked out in nothing but solid black like they had just attended a funeral.

            “Can I take this?” he asked, pointing to the bill. The group looked up at him.

            “You’re not our waitress,” said the Asian boy.

            “No shit, Minho. You’re observational skills are extraordinary,” said the sullen looking boy, with a sarcastic expression.

            “Thank you, Gally! I know I’m pretty amazing,” the Asian boy—Minho—exclaimed, throwing an arm around Gally, who looked like he was imagining Minho bursting into flame.

            “Don’t mind them,” said the dark haired girl, “they argue all the time. My names Teresa by the way.” She said this with a perfect white smile on her face. Thomas, slightly distracted by the now arguing Gally and Minho, spoke to her while eyeing them cautiously.

            “Yeah… I’m thoma—Tom. Just Tom,” he corrected himself quickly. He couldn’t believe he almost slipped up. He couldn’t let anyone here know who he was before he came to Denver. He only hoped they weren’t spies from WCKD sent to find him. Crap, now that he thought about it, it did seem likely. This group had come to eat at The Noodle Bowl every couple of days. What teenagers ate at the same restaurant all the time? Was that normal?

            “Nice to meet you, Tom. Oh and you can take the bill by way,” Teresa didn’t seem to notice his minor slip up. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Brenda did say that the beautiful boy and his friends lived next to her so it wasn’t like they were new to town.

            Thomas busied himself with gathering the bill and then proceeded to pick up their empty bowls to take back to the kitchen.

            As he collected the last bowl a soft voice spoke. “You’re names Tom? Is that short for anything?”

            Thomas turned to the soft voice that belonged to the beautiful boy he’d been ogling. _Oh god he’s English. He has an accent!_

            Thomas was sure his brain was short circuiting but he quickly found his voice. “No, my names just Tom,” he said with a smile.

            “Sorry, I just thought you might be someone I knew in school,” the boy said. Thomas smiled, but he could feel something was off… the boy looked…. Disappointed.

            “Minho I swear to god if you touch me again I will take a chopstick and shove it in your eye.” Gally’s voice broke the awkward staring the boy and he had. Thomas started to move away to take the bill and bowls back to the kitchen when Minho lurched out of his chair, dodging an angry Gally who was making good on his threat. Minho, unfortunately, had jumped straight into Thomas who stumbled backwards. A half empty bowl tumbled out of his hands, and—to Thomas’s absolute horror—right onto the beautiful boy’s lap.

            There was a second of suspended silence before the boy shot out of his seat, the bowl clattering to the floor. The boy’s front was soaked in soup.

            “Shit—oh my god—fuck—I’m so sorry!” Thomas said, dropping the rest of the bowls on the table and reaching toward the soaked boy before realizing he wasn’t sure what he could do. “Uhhh-the-bathrooms-to-your-right-and-I’ll-bring-you-a-towel-and-your-meal-is-on-me-shit-i-cant-believe-i-did-that—“

            “Don’t worry about it,” the boy chuckled— _actually chuckled_. “I would like a towel though,” he said, gesturing to his soaked front. “Think you could bring one to the bathroom or will you drop that on your way too?” the boy joked, raising a slender eyebrow at him.

            “Haha, you’re hilarious. I’m dying of laughter over here.” Thomas couldn’t stop the sarcasm before it came bursting out of him, but the boy just laughed— _laughed!_ Thomas blushed. “I guess I’ll go get you that towel now,” he said, awkwardly stepping backward, away from beautiful boy. Thomas didn’t think he could be any more awkward, but he managed to slip on some of the spilled soup which caused him to go flailing. He righted himself after quite a bit of ungraceful floundering. The boy laughed again before heading to the direction of the bathrooms which sent Thomas scurrying in the direction of the kitchen. He grabbed a towel, face still burning and then walked past the beautiful boys friends on the way to the bathroom.

            He heard their sniggering as he walked away from them. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

            He pushed open the door. “Hey, I have your tow—“ but everything Thomas was about to say left his mind. The boy had pulled his black shirt off, revealing a lanky stomach. Thomas gulped.

            He thrust the towel toward the boy, his eyes downcast to purposely avoid looking at him. He glanced at the boys sopping shirt resting on the bathroom floor. Thomas started unbuttoning his white button down.

            “Uh—what are you bloody doing!?” the boy said, looking alarmed at Thomas’s sudden stripping. Thomas, feeling the nerves leave him at the boy’s bewildered expression, snorted.

            “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not trying to come onto you. You need a shirt and I’m not making you put that wet one back on,” Thomas said, handing the boy his button down. “I have a t-shirt on underneath this anyway. It’s no problem.”

            “You sure are cheeky for someone who spilled soup all over me,” the boy said, slipping Thomas’s shirt on. Thomas tried not to let the fact that this boy was wearing _his_ clothes affect him. The button down was slightly too short, riding up a little to the point that it showed a sliver of the boy’s stomach. Thomas was surprised to be a light dusting of pink cover the boy’s face and it made him feel all the more confident. He couldn’t help but feel pleased that the boy was wearing _his_ clothes.

            “Nice midriff,” Thomas teased, gesturing toward the sliver of pale skin that peeked out from the boy’s shirt.

            “It’s not my fault you’re bloody small,” the boy teased right back, a genuine smile forming over his lips.

            “I resent that! I am perfectly normal height for the average male, thank you very much,” Thomas said while making his way out of the bathroom while the boy followed.

            “Nope. You’re tiny. I could pick you up and twirl you around if I wanted to.” Thomas’s mind was flooded with different images of the boy picking him up, much more intimate images.

            He playfully pushed the boy on the shoulder as they reached the table.

            “Wow, you’re already wearing his clothes? I could sense the sexual tension but I didn’t expect you to screw in the restaurant bathroom,” Minho said jokingly, eyeing the too small shirt Thomas had lent the boy.

            The boy turned bright pink. “Shut you’re bloody mouth, Minho,” he grumbled.

            “Well I hate to be the one to say we need to leave the vicinity of food, but we should probably hit the road,” Teresa said, gathering her purse. Thomas backed away from the table his hands in his pockets.

            “It was nice meeting you all. Sorry again, about your shirt,” Thomas said.

            “No worries. I’ll make sure to bring this one back to you,” the boy said, walking toward the door with the rest of the group. Thomas felt a thrill, hoping he really would come back so Thomas could see him again.

            “Come on, Newt! Say goodbye to your new boyfriend so we can hit the rode!” Called Minho with a wicked smirk on his face.

            “SHUT UP MINHO!” Newt screamed, embarrassed by Minho’s mocking. He gave an apologetic smile at Thomas before leaving.

            Accept Thomas barely registered the smile. He was too focused on what Minho had said.

            _Newt. His name is Newt._

            Thomas felt his chest drop with disappointment. He hadn’t noticed he didn’t know the boy’s name until Minho had said it. Thomas would never admit it, but something in him had hoped that maybe the beautiful boy was his soulmate. He rubbed the soulmate cover on his wrist and sighed. Newt wasn’t the name of his soulmate. He didn’t know why his hopes had been so high.

            “So did you ask him?” came an excitable voice from his left. He turned to see Brenda bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet looking expectant.

            He let out a disgruntled sigh as a reply.


	2. You See Right Through Me

Over the course of the next few days Thomas wished he could permanently erase Newt from his mind. He had never thought about someone so avidly. It seemed like the only two things he could think about were WCKD and Newt.

They both raced around his head—Newt admittedly the much more pleasing of the two. He had even started to pop up in some of Thomas’s dreams. Surprisingly it was nothing sexual. In them Newt and him would just talk, or walk next to each other, or, in one particularly hilarious dream, they even fought aliens side by side. It was a nice change from the nightmares that usually plagued Thomas.

Before Newt, Thomas had learned to rarely sleep. He knew his dreams would hold things he didn’t want to think about: WCKD, the experiments, the _things_ he’d done. They haunted him. But he knew he needed the sleep. He could only go so long before his body completely shut down.

A couple days after the infamous meeting with Newt Thomas laid down on top of his covers and threw his arms over his face. He went through his normal routine of trying to calm himself so he could at least get a few hours’ worth of rest.

_Just breathe. Don’t think about WCKD. Don’t think about any of it. Think of something nice._

Thomas found his thoughts wandering toward that of a lanky boy with blonde hair. Thomas could feel his heart rate slow, as if merely thinking about Newt calmed him. Maybe it did. Maybe tonight he could dream of high cheekbones and dark eyes instead of death and betrayal.

If only he could be so lucky.

The dream hit him like a bucket of ice.

            _White room. Bits of skin. Metal instruments on a table. Sterile. Overpowering smell. Too clean. Arms and legs no longer attached to owners. Experiments. Experiments he did. Murderer. I’m a murderer….._

_Then everything was vivid._

_Thomas was sitting in a white room. It looked familiar. Of course, this was where he worked. This is why he had spent so long in college. He looked over at Aris, his old college friend. They had joined WCKD together after receiving an offer to work after their bachelors in science. How could they be so lucky? They didn’t even have their pre-med school finished yet._

_Nevertheless, neither could turn down an offer to work for WCKD. It was the most innovative company dedicated to new medicines and helping the growth of mankind. Thomas could make a difference here. He could help people._

_Suddenly everything started to change. His vision spun and the room seemed to warp and turn dark._

_“You can’t help people, Thomas.”_

_Thomas looked around the darkening room. “Who are you? What’s happening?” He asked._

_“You can’t even help yourself Thomas.”_

_The black room was spinning at a rapid rate and Thomas fell to the ground. Blood seemed to start to flood the room and Thomas screamed. “Who are you? What do you want?!”_

_“I want what you promised me, Thomas. I want you to find my cure.”_

Thomas opened his eyes with a sharp inhale of breath. He wiped the clammy sweat from his forehead and sat up.

It was just a dream. Though it felt all too real for his taste. Thomas looked over at the clock. It read 5:57. He had to leave for work in thirty minutes.

He rolled out of bed, groaning, and stumbled around, attempting to start his usual routine. He was always more disoriented after his bad dreams.

He made his way to his car to pick up Brenda. They had fallen into an easy routine of him driving her to work. He lived relatively close to her and he felt like he should be doing something in return for her friendship. She was one of the only friends he had in Denver and he desperately didn’t want to lose her. He knew he sounded pathetic, but that seemed to be the way he was lately.

Thomas fiddled with his car on his way over to Brenda’s. It was an old Chevy cavalier with a cracked windshield and a stereo that had looked like the previous owner had attempted to tear it out, but they had given up and left it to dandle on some wires. The car was Thomas’s prized possession which he thought said something about the state of his life.

He was turning along the familiar roads near Brenda’s house when his lights shined on something in the middle of the road. His lights shined on _a person!_

He hit the brakes. His car screeched—skidding to a stop as he turned the wheel to avoid the person.

He blinked, his pulse pounding in his arms and head. His hands were on the wheel with a vice like grip before he let go. Realizing the situation leaped out the door, keys still in the ignition to see who had been in the road.

When he got around the car he felt his chest turn to ice. The thing in the road was definitely a _person._ Thomas could see a wrecked motorbike a few feet away. The person groaned and Thomas sprung to action. He knelt by the persons head hands fluttering over the body, desperately trying to remember what to do to help.

“Are you alright? I’m calling the police now,” Thomas said, remembering his words.

“No! Don’t bloody call anyone!” said an English voice coming from the black helmet.

Thomas paused. “Newt…?” he said questioningly.

“Yes I’m bloody Newt you shank!” said the annoyed voice in the helmet.

Thomas reached down and slowly pulled the helmet off of Newt’s head. There he was. He looked pale and his blonde hair was tousled. Thomas thought he could see a trickle of blood on Newt’s forehead.

“You’re hurt,” Thomas said.

“Great bloody observation,” Newt griped, slowly getting himself in a sitting position. He hissed, clutching his leg.

“I need to call the hospital. It looks like you might have broken a leg and you’re head is banged up,” Thomas said, touching Newt’s forehead gingerly.

“Don’t call the hospital! I’m bloody fine! Really. My friends at home can take care of me, Tommy,” Newt said with pleading eyes. Thomas felt his cheeks burn at the nickname. He didn’t like being forced to go by Tom here. It was a constant reminder of everything he lost coming to Denver. Tommy seemed easier, different.

“I didn’t think you’d remember me,” Thomas said instead.

Newt blushed. “Of course I’d remember the shuck face that spilled my lunch on me.” Newt tried to sound cheeky, but Thomas could tell he was embarrassed. He felt a thrill at that, but it quickly turned to concern at Newt’s grimace of pain.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital? I’ll drive you there,” Thomas offered.

Newt sighed. “Yes, I’m sure about the hospital,” he bit his lip, “but maybe if you could take me to my house? I’m not sure if I can make it there by myself,” Newt asked.

“Yeah of course,” Thomas said, reaching around Newt to help pull him to his feet. Newt hissed and leaned most of his weight against Thomas, gripping to Thomas’s arm so hard he was sure there would be marks there when he looked later.

Thomas helped Newt into the passenger seat and then looked back at Newt’s wrecked bike. “I don’t think I can fit that in my car…” Thomas said, eyeing his own extremely tiny vehicle.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make Gally pick it up later. That’ll piss him off for sure,” Newt said, chuckling, but that seemed to be a bad idea because his laughter broke off and he gripped his leg, eyes scrunched with pain.

Thomas ran around to the driver’s side, determined to get Newt home before his leg got any worse.

“Do you have anyone that will take care of you? I don’t think I can leave you at your house alone and keep a pure conscience,” Thomas said, starting his car.

Newt looked at him skeptically, “Good conscience my arse,” he joked.

“Hey!” Thomas cried indignantly and Newt laughed again. At Thomas’s serious look Newt sighed.

“I live with my friends. All bloody three of them in fact. I’m sure I’ll be looked after,” Newt said to answer Thomas’s question. Thomas felt relief at that. He was sure Newt’s friends could convince him to go to the hospital.

Most of the ride was spent in comfortable silence, with Newt making a few comments here and there about how to get to his house. Newt’s hands often strayed to the dangling stereo on Thomas’s counsel.

“How do you live without music?” He asked Thomas, his voice in awe.

“It still works! Sort of…” Thomas said, quick to defend his car.

Newt fiddled with the wires a little before tinny sounding music came out of the speakers. He looked over at Thomas. “This is bloody awful, Tommy.”

“Oh shut it. It doesn’t sound that bad,” Thomas said, rolling his eyes at Newt. “How’d you crash your bike anyway—if you don’t mind me asking?”

Newt glowered. “Honestly? Bloody rabbit ran in the road. The stupid shank. I tried to avoid it but I was going too fast. Flipped my bleeding bike.”

Thomas looked concerned at that. Newt seemed to notice his mistake of saying too much. “I mean, it wasn’t _that_ bad. I might not have even flipped it. It happened too fast. Really, I’m fine. You don’t need to take me to the hospital,” Newt said, trying to downplay the damage.

Thomas pursed his lips but didn’t press the subject, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

“Turn left and it’s the little house with all the plants,” Newt said, speaking up as they came to a stop sign.

“Wow you really do live close to Brenda,” Thomas said, pulling up to the house. But even as he said it he couldn’t help but notice the differences between Brenda and Newts houses despite their proximity to each other.

Brenda’s house was more modern and clean, whereas Newt’s looked like it had been abandoned and then someone took pity on it so they tried to clean it up. _Tried_ being the key word. There were almost no houses around it and it was overgrown with plants. Ivy grew along the rotting sides of the house and the front looked like it had been completely transformed into a garden. He could see a little grove of trees behind it, making the house look more like a cottage out of a fairytale.

Thomas parked his car and hopped out, going to open the passenger door, but Newt was already half way out, hobbling along the sidewalk to get to his house.

“Thanks for the ride Tommy! I can make it from here!” Newt said, seemingly trying to get inside his house as fast as possible. Thomas felt surprised at Newt’s sudden need to get away from him and then sad. Had he done something wrong? He watched Newt stumble slightly over a stray plant and Thomas ran up to help him. Even if Newt didn’t want help he obviously needed it.

“No! No! I’m fine! I can get in my house by myself!” Newt protested, flailing his arms. Thomas dogged the flailing limbs and scooped Newt up bridal style. Newt let out an indignant squawk. “Put. Me. Down.” he growled dangerously.

“Usually I don’t like going against people’s wishes, but you’re going to hurt yourself even more,” Thomas said, walking up the front of the door and knocking.

“None of them are home right now shuck face,” Newt said, glaring at Thomas.

“Then give me your keys,” Thomas said.

“No!”

“Newt, I swear to god!”

“You’re not going inside, Tom!”

“I’m not putting you down so you can walk on your _broken leg_!”

“Don’t you dare try to get my keys out of my pocket, Tommy! I will _bloody murder you!_ ”

Newt angrily squirmed as Thomas pulled his keys out of Newt’s pocket and rammed the key in the lock, turning it with a satisfying _click!_

“Wait! Tommy, don’t!—” Newt began but broke off as Thomas stepped over the threshold. Newt froze, as if waiting for something to happen. Thomas eyed him curiously as he walked inside and set Newt on a stained Victorian couch.

“How—how did you…?” Newt began, looking at Thomas with awe and confusion.

“How did I what…?” Thomas asked, confused.

“I… nothing. It’s nothing. The broken legs making me act all weird, you know?” Newt said. Thomas didn’t quite buy his act, but he shrugged it off.

“How are you feeling?” Thomas asked, looking at Newts leg which he had propped up.

“Bloody fantastic,” Newt griped, “but I think it might just be sprained.”

“No way. That’s definitely a break. Your friends will tell you the same when they get home,” Thomas said, sitting gingerly on a teetering chair next to the couch.

“You don’t need to stay, Tommy. I’ll be fine,” Newt said, eyes drooping.

“There’s no way I’m leaving you alone. Do you need water or something? I feel so useless,” Thomas asked.

“Yeah, I suppose. Kitchen’s around the corner,” Newt said, gesturing in its direction.

Thomas sat up and headed through the doorway. The inside of the house seemed to match the outside. The walls didn’t even seem finished. Pipes hung everywhere and the wood floor creaked under Thomas’s feet. But the unfinished look wasn’t what through Thomas off. It was the weird decorations.

Feathers and animal teeth seemed to hang from every pipe on twine. Thomas could recognize lavender and other types of herbs in glass bottles. There was also things he couldn’t recognize, like leather books in a different language and bowls full of black sludge.

Most people would think that Newt and his friends just had weird aesthetic taste, but Thomas felt uneasy. His work with WCKD made him recognize some of these things… But—no. No way. There was no way Newt and his friends could be—

_SLAM_!

The front door burst open and Thomas whirled around to see people he recognized as Teresa, Gally, and Minho. They came charging in, looking wild.

“Whoever’s here we will gut you alive!” Gally screamed.

“Calm down guys!” yelled a surprised Newt from the couch. The group seemed to just realize Newt was there.

“Newt! Are you okay? We saw an unfamiliar car in the driveway—oh my god! You’re hurt,” Teresa said, noticing Newt’s leg.

It was at that unfortunate moment Minho saw Thomas standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Minho looked shocked, but his expression morphed into something murderous. Minho came barreling through the door and threw Thomas onto the table before he had time to register what was happening. Minho’s huge hands closed around Thomas’s throat with more force than he thought was humanly possible. He struggled, but Minho was just too strong. It was like a feather fighting a hurricane.

“Minho! Stop! He didn’t hurt me! I broke my leg ‘cause I crashed my bike!” Newt screamed, attempting to get up to help Thomas, but only slumped back down when he put pressure on his leg.

Minho’s hands relaxed. Thomas pushed him off, spluttering.

“How’d he get through the wards then?” Minho demanded.

Thomas could barely register what he was hearing. His head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. He could hear arguing, which he assumed was Newt and his friends, but he couldn’t make out what was being said. He felt his vision fade, and then things went black.

 

Black dots were still scattered across his vision before he could start to understand what was being said. He cracked open his eyes and noticed he had been placed on the couch. He tilted his head and saw the others were huddled in a circle, looking pensive. They didn’t look like they noticed Thomas was awake.

“He shouldn’t have been able to cross the doorway,” said a worried looking Teresa, chewing on her thumb nail.

“I say we kill him. We can’t have any loose ends,” said Gally, who Thomas felt a rush of dislike for.

“We’re not killing him!” said Newt, who—Thomas noticed—was oddly standing and looking completely unhurt. How long had Thomas been out? Had he fainted? Did they carry him to the couch? He tried standing, but ended up groaning in pain.

The group turned to look at him.

Newt walked over first. “Are you okay, Tommy? Minho got you pretty good. You’ve been out for a few hours….”

A few hours!? Brenda was going to murder him for not picking her up.

Newt looked tentative which brought Thomas out of his thoughts. “Do you happen to remember anything?” Newt asked.

Thomas knew that now would be a good time to lie. If his suspicions were right they wouldn’t want to know that he knew. “I was helping you with your leg… then your friends came home…. They thought I was an intruder and… attacked me…”

“Is that all you remember?” Newt asked.

“Was there anything else to remember?” Thomas asked, playing dumb.

“No, no. Of course not. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Newt said.

Thomas glanced down. “You’re leg… it was broken…” He wanted to smack himself for opening his dumb mouth. Now wouldn’t be a good time to point out anything that could get him in trouble with these people.

Newt’s smile tightened. “It was just sprained. My friends fixed me right up. Nothing to worry about.”

There was no way that was a sprain. Thomas knew that, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to say anything.

“You know, I should probably get going. I do have work today,” Thomas said, testing the waters to see if they would let him leave. They all exchanged glances and Gally looked like he was about to protest when Newt spoke up.

“Yeah, that’s fine Tommy. Are you sure you can drive? Minho squeezed your neck pretty hard,” Newt said, gently running his fingers across Thomas’s neck where he was sure bruises were blossoming. Thomas felt warm at his touch even though he knew he shouldn’t. These people were hiding something—and if Thomas was right they were hiding something pretty important.

“I’m good. It takes more than that to stop me,” Thomas said, getting up and heading toward the door. The group parted to let him pass. It felt like he was being watched by a pride of hungry lions.

He got to the door when he heard a voice.

“Tommy, wait!”

Thomas turned to see Newt running toward him holding a white shirt. “I forgot to give this to you,” he said, holding out the shirt to Thomas. The incident with the soup felt so long ago and so absurd Thomas laughed.

“Thanks, Newt,” he said taking it.

“Honestly I should be bloody thanking you,” Newt said. “You saved my arse from being stranded on the road. I am sorry about Minho by the way. They can be overprotective, you know?”

Thomas smiled, a genuine smile. “I’ll see you around, Newt.” He said, turning to head back to his car.

While he was driving down the road he felt like he could bang his head on his steering wheel.

He’d just been weirdly accosted by Newt’s friends and here he was still smitten him despite that Newt and his friends may or may not have actually debated murdering him. He had issues. He wasn’t even his soul mate for gods sake!

The very thought made Thomas acutely aware of his soul-name cover. He brushed off the thought with a sigh.

Thomas jumped a mile when he heard his phone beep. He glanced down at the glowing screen that had been resting in the cup holder.

_18 missed calls._

And all of them were from Brenda.

He was _so_ dead.

 

 

 

Two days had passed since the incident and Brenda had seemed to just start forgiving Thomas for “abandoning her and forcing her to walk for miles and miles to get to work!” as she had said.

Truthfully Thomas thought the only reason she had forgiven him is because the reason he was late involved Newt. As soon as he had mentioned Newt she was all ears and wanted to hear all about his crush. Thomas made sure to leave out the sketchy details about what had happened at Newt’s house and Brenda seemed happy enough to take it at face value. She squealed and giggled and demanded to know when they’d meet up again. Thomas admitted he didn’t have Newt’s number and he was sure Brenda would explode with frustration as soon as the words left his lips.

“Tom! You are hopeless!” She said, throwing her hands into the air. It was a slow day at The Noodle Bowl and Thomas had taken to standing next to the hostess’s desk to talk with Brenda.

Thomas knew she was right. He _did_ like Newt. He just wasn’t sure if he should go with it. Even after everything that had happened it wasn’t like Newt and he would go anywhere.

Brenda seemed to read his thoughts because her face turned thoughtful. “Look… Tom. I know I’m not supposed to ask this, but… is Newt your soulmate?”

“No.”

“Oh…” she said, her face dropping. “I don’t know, I was just so sure. You guys seemed so into each other right at the start…”

“It’s fine, Brenda.”

“No,” she said suddenly. “No, it’s not. I’m sick and tired of people feeling like their life is defined by these stupid tattoos,” she said, gesturing to her soul-name cover where the name of her soul mate would be printed in blue ink underneath.

“They’re not just tattoos, Brenda,” Thomas said.

“Yeah, yeah, I know the stupid myth—” she began.

“It’s not a myth!” Thomas said, angrily, but then looked apologetic. “Sorry, I’m just passionate about the subject.”

Brenda smiled, not fazed by his outburst. She looked genuinely curious. “How can you be so sure? I’ve never even met a warlock, how can we believe that they’re the ones that caused soul mates if there are barely any warlocks left?”

Thomas was tense. How much could he tell her? Could he trust her?

“I used to work with a company that worked with magic and—warlocks—in a way,” he began, testing the waters.

She looked at him. She seemed to know this was a tense subject. “You saw warlocks? Did they say anything about the soul mate myth?” she asked.

“I think it’s still basically the same thing they teach us in school. Just that in the past it was said that a human went to a warlock, wanting to ask why her husband had left her. She had a broken heart and said she wanted to know if there was anyone out there who would truly love her. The warlock, taking pity on her and, at the time, the loveless human race gathered all the most powerful warlocks together. He wanted to cast a spell so that every human child born would have a counterpart out in the world that was meant to love them completely. To help them find this human their counterparts name would be written on their wrist,” he said, recalling a story he hadn’t heard for some time.

Brenda sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Yeah, that’s pretty much the same thing they teach us in school, huh? I guess we may never know the complete truth.”

“Yeah, but I’ve seen warlocks magic. They’re… powerful. I believe they could do something like that story,” Thomas said.

“And I guess if you believe that then you believe that there is someone out there that was made for you,” Brenda said, understanding Thomas’s reluctance to pursue Newt. “You feel like you’re cheating on your soul mate if you fall for someone else.”

Thomas noticed it wasn’t phrased as a question.

She let out a frustrated sigh. “I won’t pressure you to date Newt then. Even if I think you would be _super_ cute together.”

Thomas smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. Brenda frowned.

“Tom, is something else bothering you about Newt?” she asked.

Thomas wanted to scream yes. He wanted to tell her all about the weird plants, the odd way they reacted to him being in their house, the superhuman strength Minho seemed to have… but he couldn’t. If he was right, that wasn’t his secret to tell.

“Holy mother of god,” Brenda suddenly said, eyes wide. Thomas panicked, thinking she had somehow figured out what he was thinking except Brenda wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at the entrance to The Noodle Bowl where a woman was standing. A woman wearing black fishnets and a black high necked dress with thigh high leather boots.

Thomas swore he could see Brenda drooling.

Then the woman spoke. “Hi, Tom.”

Thomas’s eyebrows rose. “Teresa?” he said in shock. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized her.

“I was wondering if we could speak together after your shift?” she asked, leaning seductively against the hostess’s desk.

Thomas felt deeply uncomfortable.

“I don’t know…” he said, looking to Brenda for help but she still seemed hypnotized by Teresa. At least Teresa’s seduction hadn’t been lost on everyone. It seemed to be affecting Brenda plenty.

“I guess we can talk now. It’s my break,” he finally said. He had a feeling he was going to regret this. She could shank him in the alley for all he knew. But he had to admit, the idea of getting to be involved in Newt’s life, even if it was a small bit, tempted him more than he’d like to say.

He took off his apron and waved to a still dazed Brenda before walking out of The Noodle Bowl with Teresa. They had walked a few blocks in silence before Teresa spoke up.

“We should get some frozen yogurt.”

Well Thomas had definitely not been expecting that to be her first sentence. But he obliged.

In fact, Teresa asked him a lot of weird questions he hadn’t expected while they ate the yogurt. She had asked him questions that ranged from his favorite color to what he’d do if the zombie apocalypse happened. She was actually a pretty cool person. She wasn’t so bad when she wasn’t trying to seduce him and Thomas found himself enjoying her company so much that he lost track of time.

“Shit, I should probably get back to Brenda,” he finally said.

“I’ll walk you back,” Teresa said, standing and offering him a hand up. He took it gratefully.

They had started walking when she decided to ask another question.

“So how do you feel about warlocks?”

Silence. Her tone was innocent but Thomas could feel the weight behind the question. He knew that was why she was really here. This was the question she had been waiting to ask. He knew his next few words would be important.

“I think there aren’t a lot of them left. I think that humans have been unjustly killing them for centuries because they’re...different…and they want the powers they possess. I think that they need to be protected.”

Thomas said this last sentence while looking her straight in the eye.

She seemed pleased with what he had to say.

Suddenly her demeanor changed. “You know, I think you should come back to the house with me,” she said, slowly trailing her finger across Thomas’s chest. Thomas backed away, scared by her sudden display.

She grabbed the front of Thomas’s shirt and moved in to kiss him but he pushed her away.

She looked up, shocked.

“I’m gay,” he blurted.

“Oh. Shit,” she said. “I told them this wouldn’t work.”

Thomas was confused. “What do you mean…?”

“I’m sorry to do this the hard way, but you’re going to need to come with us,” she said backing away from Thomas. Before Thomas knew what was happening three figures came lurking out of the shadows and tackled Thomas to the ground.

He felt himself blackout for the second time that week but all he could think to say before the darkness took him was, “Brenda’s gonna be pissed at me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! Between work and preparing for college my life has been super hectic so I'm not sure when I'll be able to post the next chapter! I'm hoping to have it up before the end of next week! Thank you all for sticking with me!


	3. I Go Back

When Thomas woke he had a strange feeling of déjà vu.

He tried to remember when he felt this shitty before. He scrunched his eyes and then it came to him. It felt like the same kind of headache and blurry vision he had when Minho had caused him to pass out—shit.

            He _had_ passed out. The memory of his time with Teresa zoomed back to him in a painful haze.

He had been jumped by three people. And Thomas would bet money that he knew who those three people were.

            His vision came into focus and he noticed he was sitting in Newt’s living room. He looked around but no one was there. Thomas tried to stand but he realized he couldn’t. He was tied to the rickety chair placed next to their couch.

Those complete _assholes_.

            “Hey!” he called out, trying to get someone’s attention.

            Thomas heard footsteps behind him, but no one spoke up.

            “I can hear you all you know,” he said angrily. He wasn’t sure were his courage came from. He was the one tied up. He should be afraid, but something about the situation pissed him off more than anything else.

            Newt was the first to awkwardly sidle around to the front, followed by an equally sheepish looking Teresa, a contemplating Minho, and a sullen Gally.

            “Well, why did you kidnap me?” Thomas said snappily.

            “Look, we just needed some answers. We didn’t want to kidnap you, I swear! We thought getting Teresa to seduce you to come to the house so we could safely talk would be our best option….” Newt said embarrassed, like he just realized how stupid his plan sounded out loud.

            “We just didn’t take into account that you played for Newt’s team. Kind of screwed over Teresa’s whole seduction thing,” Minho said playfully.

            Thomas paused. “Newt’s team?” he asked.

            “You know, like _gay._ You’re riding the rainbow train of life, a confirmed ass bandit, fresh out of Narnia’s closet, playing for the other side—”

            “Thanks for the euphuisms, Minho, but I think he gets it,” Newt finally said, cutting Minho off.

            Thomas, however, had barely registered what they had said. Even if he was tied to a chair, his head was still reeling with the news the Newt was gay. Newt was _gay_.

            “Shouldn’t we move to the important information?” Gally finally put in, looking exasperated that he had to be there at all.

            “Right,” Teresa said, coming forward to stand in front of Thomas. “We, as a group, decided we needed to tell you something,” she began, looking at the others worriedly. She took a deep breath. “We’re—”

            “—warlocks,” Thomas finished for her.

            The others blinked at him in shock.

            “How did you..?” Newt asked with wide eyes.

            “Please, you all weren’t exactly subtle about it with all you’re magic herbs and plants, and then Newt’s leg magically getting healed—oh—and let’s not forget Teresa’s oh-so-indirect question about how I felt about warlocks,” Thomas said sarcastically.

            Teresa huffed.

            “Also, it explains why Newt was so adamant about not going to the hospital. They would have spotted he was a warlock right away. And with the way warlocks have been disappearing I would think you guys would want to be on the down low, right?”

            Thomas took their silence as an affirmative so he continued.

            “But what I don’t get is why did you kidnap me? Is it to make sure I won’t tell anyone about what you are cause I won’t,” he said.

            Teresa looked uncomfortable. “Well yes and no. Most of what you said was right except we didn’t just kidnap you because we want you to stay quiet. You see, we all found each other to stay safe. Warlocks belong in a coven, see? Being together keeps us safe and makes our powers stronger. And we kidnaped you… cause…well…”

            “Cause you’re a bloody warlock, that’s why. You’re one of us,” Newt said this quickly and loudly, as if he had been bursting with the news.

            Thomas looked at him with a disbelieving expression. “I’m not a warlock. I would have noticed. Nothing weird or out of the ordinary has ever happened to me.”

            Well that’s not entirely true, he thought. His mind wondered back to his time at WCKD. He had worked with warlock runes. He’d studied them, dissected him. He had always had quite the affinity to get them to do what he wanted…

            “Your magic is easily disguised, more so than most other warlocks I’ve encountered,” Newt began. “That’s why we didn’t sense what you were at The Noodle Bowl. I only realized that you were one when you stepped through our doorway,” Newt said.

            “Why would that affect whether or not I was a warlock,” Thomas asked.

            “Because we have wards surrounding the house, shuck-face,” Gally finally said, as if he was tired of listening to Thomas’s stupidity. “We put them up to keep all non-warlocks from entering the property. It’s supposed to keep us safe,” Gally finished.

            “At first we thought are wards had failed, but we checked them after you left and they’re still strong. After that it only left one explanation and we were able to figure out that you were—well a warlock,” Newt added.

            Thomas blinked. What they had said made sense… And it technically _could_ be possible. Being a warlock was hereditary and he’d never known his father… Could it be possible? Did his mother know? If she did how could she not tell him after what happened with WCKD?

            Thomas was filled with rage. H didn’t know why he was reacting so badly to the news. The only thing he knew was that he had to get out of their house. Now.

He tried to stand but then realized he was still strapped down by ropes. “Untie. Me,” he growled. Everyone seemed to notice his anger. Newt quickly untied him. Thomas stood and made his way to the door without saying anything.

“Tommy!” Newt called after him. Thomas felt another bout of déjà vu. It wasn’t the first time Newt had called after him as he was leaving. Thomas paused.

“Newt, not now,” Thomas said and Newt looked hurt. Thomas ran a hand through his hair. “Newt, I’m sorry. It’s not about you. I just need time. Time to think—”

“It’s okay, Tommy,” Newt said, backing away. “We’ve all been where you are. If you decide to come back you know where I’ll be.”

 

Thomas felt extremely guilty as he walked home. And then he felt extremely pissed because he shouldn’t have to feel guilty damn it! He had every right to be upset!

He kept fishing his phone out of his pocket, getting ready to angrily type his mother’s number to demand an explanation—but he kept losing his nerve.

It wasn’t until he rounded the block that led to his apartment that he finally typed her number in and hit the call button.

“Hello? Thomas? Is that you?”

Thomas’s anger dissipated at the sound of her voice. It had been a while sense anyone had called him Thomas. It was comforting and familiar. He’d been going by Tom to keep anyone from trailing him back to WCKD.

The thoughts of WCKD brought back his anger.

“Am I warlock?” he demanded. He knew that he wasn’t being subtle about his, but he needed to know.

There was silence on the other end and Thomas tried to steady his racing heart.

“It’s true then? And you didn’t tell me? Even after I told you what happened with WCKD you didn’t feel the need to tell me?” He demanded, he could feel his throat getting tight. He _would not_ cry. He hated crying and it was just his luck that his body seemed to automatically cry when he was panicking.

“Thomas, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to upset you anymore than you already were! I felt like telling you now would have just made things worse!” his mother pleaded from the other line.

            Thomas felt hot tears roll down his cheek and he wiped at them angrily.

            “I have to go.”

            “Thomas, please hear me out!”

            “Just… just give me a while, okay?” he said. He hung up before she could say anything else.

            So it was true. He was a warlock.

            He looked up at his apartment and suddenly couldn’t imagine being there all alone. He needed someone to confide in. Someone he trusted. He turned around and headed in a different direction while typing on his phone.

            **Brenda, I’m coming over, k? We need to talk**

Thomas had told Brenda the bare minimum. He told her that something had happened with Newt and she was more than understanding. She offered to let him stay at her house which he happily agreed to. It was nice to have a change of scenery to sort out his thoughts in.

            Being around Brenda reminded him of how great a friend she really was. Brenda definitely knew how to pry but she seemed to sense his distress and didn’t push him on this. For that he was grateful. She wasn’t even upset with him for all the times he missed work. Thomas promised to himself that when he got his shit together he was going to get her the biggest fruit basket he could find and the gaudiest thank you card ever.

            Thomas had spent the weakened holed up in Brenda’s living room while he looked up everything he could on warlocks. Brenda didn’t mind letting him use her laptop. She spent most of her time playing video games on the sofa next to him. It was nice to have her presence there.

            He read all kinds of things about warlocks, but he already knew most of it. All his studies with WCKD already had him pretty knowledgeable on the subject of warlocks. It talked about tattoos or runes that covered their bodies. Each symbol was put there by the warlock to help them amplify a part of their power. Oftentimes humans couldn’t see the runes if the warlocks chose to cover them with a type of magic that obscured them from the sight of humans.

Newt must have had that kind of magic covering him when Thomas had spilled soup on him. Otherwise he would have seen the runes on him when he was shirtless…

“Tom, you okay?” Brenda asked. She had paused her game and was staring at him. Thomas shook his head to clear the images of a shirtless Newt.

“Yeah I’m fine,” he said.

Brenda went back to her game, but Thomas could sense she was still concerned about him. He couldn’t blame her.

 

That night Thomas had nightmares. He had hoped that being in Brenda’s house might make his body less prone to the dreams that plagued him, but he’d have to settle with being disappointed.

However these dreams were less vivid. They consisted mainly of Director Janson hovering over his shoulders while Aris and he worked at WCKD headquarters. It was a familiar enough scene.

Aris would occasionally pass him papers with runes on them. In the corner of the room there were things that looked suspiciously like skin tacked to the wall. Skin with runes on them.

The only thing that was different from his actual memories was that it was deadly silent. There was no noise whatsoever. The silence was deafening.

All Thomas knew was that he _needed_ to decipher these runes. He needed to figure out what they meant. What they could do. It was his job.

Suddenly Janson was whispering in his ear.

_Warlocks. Greedy. Selfish. Never share their power. Barely human._

Janson’s voice was like the hiss of steam. It curled around Thomas’s memory.

Thomas felt guilt loge itself in his gut.

_You knew there was something wrong, Thomas. You knew and you never did anything._

Thomas dropped his medical tools and covered his eyes, but instead of seeing black he saw the faces of tortured eyes. They swirled around him like a tornado.

But then there was a face amidst the others that made Thomas look again. It was Newt.

_Why did you do this, Tommy?_

He woke to the sound of Brenda’s doorbell.

It took him a second to recognize his surroundings. He was on an inflatable mattress next to Brenda’s bed.

The bell rang again and he heard Brenda groan and roll over. When it rang for a third time Brenda threw a pillow at him.

“Ow!” Thomas cried out.

“Get the door!” Brenda slurred, her speech groggy from it being so early.

Thomas grunted in reply and rolled off the mattress. He was rubbing his eyes when he opened Brenda’s front door.

“What?” he griped out.

“Uh… hi Tommy,” said an English accented voice.

Thomas’s eyes flew open.

Newt was standing in Brenda’s doorway, looking sheepish.

“I—how did you find me?” Thomas asked, shocked.

“Warlock, remember? I can do things. Can I come in?” Newt asked.

Thomas nodded dumbly and felt a wave of embarrassment crash over him. He was still in his pajamas which consisted of a see through sleeveless top and thin shorts.

He quickly got over his embarrassment and gestured at Newt to sit on the couch.

Newt gracefully rested on the couch. He seemed so comfortable, like he’d been there a hundred times before. There was just a confident air about him that Thomas envied.

Thomas, on the other hand, tripped on his way to the living room and quickly seated himself so as to avoid further humiliation. Newt chuckled.

“What brings you here?” Thomas asked Newt.

Newt wrung his hands. “I know you need time to figure things out. I know joining a coven and coming to terms with who you are isn’t easy. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Thomas smiled and felt warm all over. “Thanks Newt. Do the others know you’re here?”

Newt shook his head.

“They don’t want to influence your decision. The thing is… I’m not here to convince you to join us. I was worried that you could get captured. I know you don’t know a lot about being a warlock. I think it could do you some good to put some protection wards up around your house to keep anyone unwanted out,” Newt said.

Thomas felt touched by his concern.

“I would but it’s not my house,” Thomas said.

Newt looked disappointed. “Oh… you live with someone? I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”

“No! I’m single! She’s just a friend,” Thomas assured him.

Newt’s face brightened. “That’s—that’s good. Yeah…” Newt seemed to realize how awkward that statement was because he flushed pink.

            Thomas fidgeted, a smirk threatening to overtake his face. Newt was happy he was single? Did that mean he could possibly like him? _Like_ -like him?

            Newt looked at Thomas from underneath his lashes. Big brown doe eyes looked at Thomas sheepishly and it was then that Thomas made his decision.

            “I don’t need to put wards up,” he said.

            Newt looked worried. “Tommy, I really think it would be dangerous not—”

            “I’m not putting up wards because I’m living with you. With the coven,” Thomas said with conviction.

            Newt’s mouth hung slightly open in shock. He closed it delicately.

            “The others will be glad to hear that!” Newt said. Thomas doubted that Gally would feel that way, but Newt sure looked ecstatic.

            Thomas couldn’t help but feel like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders at the thought of going to be with a coven. He hadn’t realized how much he had wanted that.

            “Let me go pack my bag. I don’t have a lot of stuff so it shouldn’t take long,” Thomas said, standing up and grinning.

            But as he turned he felt the grin melt off his face.

Standing in the doorway was Brenda.

She had her arms crossed and was looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“Brenda! How long have you been there?” Thomas asked, panic seeping in his veins.

“Pretty much the entire time.”

Thomas’s heart sank. She knew he was a warlock then. She knew Newt’s coven existed. She could rat out what they were to anyone paying a hefty price for warlocks now. They would have to run and it was all Thomas’s fault.

“Well, what are you standing there for? We have to pack out things slint-head!” She finally said, looking exasperated.

“What—?” Thomas began looking confused, but Brenda waved him away with her hand.

“Well I’m not going to let you go to some creepy ass coven _alone_ now am I? What kind of friend would I be if I abandoned my newly found out warlock friend to some people I barely know?”

Thomas could have kissed her.

“Brenda, you’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had,” he said with a grin on his face.

“Oh shush. You’re making me blush. And you,” she said pointing at Newt, “you better not put up a fuss with me joining. I’m not good at handling being told no so for the sake of everyone I wouldn’t protest.”

Newt raised an eyebrow but smiled. “You can come, but don’t expect the others to be too happy about it.”

“They’ll learn to love me,” she said and then flounced off to pack her bags.

 

It had taken Newt, Thomas, and Brenda a lot of blood, sweat, and screaming to get Gally, Minho, and Teresa to alter the wards to let Brenda in.

When they had pulled up in Thomas’s Chevy, Teresa, and Minho had been waiting to greet them happily, that is, until they saw Brenda.

Thomas was sure Gally could smell when people were distressed because he was there in a flash, screaming his head off about how their secret had been spilled to a mortal.

Eventually Newt had convinced Teresa and then Minho to let Brenda in. Gally just threw his hands up exasperatedly and stomped inside muttering things about how no one ever listens to him.

Minho looked apologetically at Thomas and Brenda. “He’ll come around. He has issues with meeting people he doesn’t know,” Minho said in an attempt to defend Gally.

“More like he has issues with people period,” Teresa added in. Minho stuck his tongue out at her before chasing after Gally to make sure he was alright.

Teresa then turned to Brenda and Thomas.

“Now that you’re part of our coven I suppose we should get you situated. We only have space in my room and in Newt’s room. Do you have a preference, Tom?” Teresa said and then looked over at Brenda. “Feel free to chime in your opinion. I didn’t get your name by the way,” Teresa said, holding out her hand.

“Brenda,” Brenda said with a dazzling smile and shook Teresa’s hand. Except Teresa didn’t shake back. She had gone pale as a ghost, staring at Brenda with wide eyes.

“Teresa, what’s bloody wrong with you?” Newt asked.

Brenda sucked in a breath. “Teresa? As in _Teresa_. No fucking way!”

Something clicked in Thomas’s head at the exchange. His theory was proved when Brenda unclicked her soul-cover to reveal the name _Teresa_ scrawled on her wrist in elegant blue ink.

“Looks like you’re my soulmate, huh?” Brenda asked, rubbing the back of her neck.

Brenda was handling this much better than Teresa in Thomas’s opinion. Brenda was taking the whole thing in stride it seemed, but Teresa was still frozen.

“Uh, you okay?” Brenda asked, lifting her hand to poke Teresa’s shoulder. Teresa’s eyes flicked to Brenda’s hand and leaped away before she could touch her.

A flicker of hurt passed over Brenda’s eyes.

“I’M SORRY,” said Teresa much too loudly. Teresa seemed panicked. Her hands fluttered nervously all over the place. “I-DIDN’T-MEAN-TO-JUMP-I’M-NOT-USUALLY- LIKE-THIS-I-DON’T—I—YOU JUST DON’T KNOW HOW LONG I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU I’M SORRY I’M FREAKING YOU OUT ARENT I—”

It was Brenda’s laugh that broke Teresa’s panicked screaming. It was a sweet laugh that crinkled the corners of her eyes. Thomas had never seen her look that happy.

Teresa blinked at Brenda before timidly smiling and then joining in her laughter.

“Shit, can I—can I start over? My name’s Teresa,” Teresa said, sticking her hand out again.

“Brenda,” Brenda said with a chuckle. They shook hands and it felt like something changed in the very air of the room. Thomas could feel something click between them.

They had started talking, but Newt and he had slowly backed out of the room to give them their privacy.

It wasn’t every day that you found your soulmate.

Newt had gone off to inform Gally and Minho of the soulmate news and told Thomas to help himself to whatever was in the kitchen.

Thomas couldn’t help but be reminded of the time Minho had tried to choke him to death on the kitchen table. Surprisingly he smiled at the memory. It seemed so insane and far away now.

Thomas settled down at the table with a glass of water, listening to the happy chatter of Teresa and Brenda in the living room. Something stirred in him at the sound of them.

Something bittersweet that reminded him of envy. Longing.

Or maybe it was happiness.

 

Later that day Minho had decided it was time to give Thomas his first lesson on being a warlock. Newt looked incredulous.

“Minho, you actually want to do work? What’s got into you?” Newt asked.

Minho scoffed. “Don’t listen to the British kid. He knows nothing. Besides, Gally won’t be happy until he feels like the kid knows what he’s doing.”

Newt rolled his eyes but let Minho continue.

Minho cracked his knuckles. “The first thing you should know about this warlock shit is how our powers work. You see, we all have basic powers, like tracking spells and simple healing spells. You know this, you’ve seen it. I digress,” Minho said, using many gestures to convey what he was saying. “Anyway, even though we all can do basic magical badassery we all specialize in something. Each warlock has unique powers. Powers derive from a certain aspect of nature or the world they are drawn to.”

At Thomas’s lost look he continued.

“For example, newt over there has a special connection with nature and plants and shit. All that good stuff. When he’s in nature he feels stronger and his powers are stronger. He also has powers over that shit. He can make plants grow and trees bend to his will. It’s cool, not nearly as cool as _me_ of course,” Minho dodged a crumpled piece of paper lobed at his head by Newt and continued talking.

“Teresa also has elemental magic. She has powers over fire. On hot days she can be pretty intensely powerful so I suggest only pissing her off in winter, just an fyi.”

Thomas gulped. The image of an angry Teresa throwing fireballs at him pop into his head.

“Warlocks don’t only derive their unique powers from just nature magic though,” Minho continued. “Warlocks have been known to find strength in things like emotions, family, certain people, and sometimes even more modern things like technology. Another example being Gally. He finds strength in others people’s anger. The more angry people around him are the stronger his magic is. He’s known for producing great defensive magic. I’ve never seen someone make shields and wards quite like him…” Minho trailed off, eyes clouding over. Thomas could tell Minho seemed to care a great deal about Gally.

“What about you?” Thomas asked.

“Hmm?” inquired Minho.

“What’s your “unique” power?” Thomas asked.

“I thought you could have guessed that one, Tommy,” Newt piped up from a chair in the corner of the kitchen.

Thomas thought back to Minho throwing him on the kitchen table…

“Super strength?” he asked.

Minho and Newt laughed.

“Yeah, something like that,” Minho answered. “My powers grow stronger with adrenaline. If people around me have adrenaline pumping or if I have high adrenaline my powers skyrocket. It usually results in me having as you so eloquently put, “super strength”.”

Thomas was silent as he pondered this. “So where do I get my strong powers from? And what’s my unique power?”

Newt laughed. “You ask a lot of bloody questions, don’t you Tommy?” he teased.

Thomas blushed.

Minho smiled and answered. “We don’t know yet. That’s something you’ll have to figure out over time. I know it’s a shit answer but it’s the best I can give you. You’ll have to find what aspect of this world you’re connected to before you can properly channel your powers.”

“Shouldn’t I have figured this out already? I mean how have I not realized what I was before?”

“A warlocks magic only really becomes apparent when they are around other warlocks so we should start seeing your power manifesting soon. Guess you’ll just have to settle with being a late bloomer,” Minho said.

 

That night Minho, Thomas, and Newt were still gathered in the kitchen laughing and making jokes. Brenda and Teresa had decided to vacate the living room to join them. Their hands were intertwined and Minho made cooing noises at them when they walked in. That only resulted in Teresa sending a small fireball to singe his shirt.

Gally had spent most of the night avoiding the kitchen but would pop in every now in then to get food. He didn’t hide his displeasure at Brenda and Thomas being there. He would glower and sulk around the kitchen during the rare moments he was there. He reminded Thomas more and more of an angry, hissing goose.

It was around midnight that Minho finally announced that he was going to bed before Gally internally exploded. Minho and Gally shared a room from what Thomas gathered and it didn’t seem like Gally enjoyed going to bed before Minho.

“I don’t need your loud stomping around to wake me up when you finally decide to go to bed! It’s better if I just wait for you,” Gally said to defend himself, but Thomas could relate to something in his expression. It was the face of someone who had been plagued with nightmares. Thomas understood not enjoying going to bed alone.

Minho and Gally had headed up the stairs when Teresa turned to Brenda, offering her to stay in her room. Brenda beamed and nodded her head.

“Night slint-heads!” she called to Newt and Thomas as she dragged a happy looking Teresa up the stairs.

“I guess that leaves you to stay in my room,” said Newt, turning to look at Thomas. Thomas could feel a blush rising in his face but he willed his expression to not look embarrassed.

“That’s fine. You’re my favorite anyway,” he joked, shoving Newt playfully as he made his way upstairs.

“I should be your bloody favorite. I’m fantastic,” Newt jested before stopping at the end of the hallway at a mahogany door. There was a symbol of a tree carved into the wood.

“This is my room,” Newt said, looking embarrassed as he pushed open the door. Thomas didn’t blame him. He didn’t particularly like sharing his personal things with anyone else.

The room was small, one wall painted a soft blue. There was a round glass table, a couch, and a bed with band posters hanging on the wall overhead. Plants grew all over the place. There was a fern in the corner and one unidentifiable plant that grew from the ceiling and curled down the walls and onto the floor. Pots of azaleas and herbs were set on the window sill.

Thomas found it very soothing.

“The couch pulls out into a bed. You can sleep there if you want,” Newt said, moving to fix the makeshift bed. “We’ll have to get you a new bed since you’re going to be here permanently. Will this be okay for now?”

Thomas nodded and helped Newt pull sheets onto the bed.

It wasn’t until later that night that Thomas heard noises.

“Please, don’t.”

Thomas sat up in the darkness, the pull out couch creaking underneath him.

“Don’t do this.”

Thomas looked around in the pitch black room. “Newt, are you alright?” he asked into the night.

“Don’t you care about me?”

These words were mumbled and hard to hear, but Thomas could tell they were coming from Newt. The accent was too distinguishable.

“Why are you doing this?” Newt whimpered. His voice had gone up a few octaves and Thomas could hear him tossing in his bed. He bit his lip contemplating getting up.

“No!” Newt cried out and that was the last straw to pull on Thomas’s heartstrings. Thomas threw off his cover and shuffled over to Newt’s bed managing to only stub his toe twice on the way there.

“Newt?” he whispered, but the boy didn’t seem to be able to hear him.

“D-don’t,” Newt said, and Thomas heard a sound that sounded suspiciously like a sob. He put his hand on Newt’s shoulder and tried to shake him awake. The boy didn’t wake up, but Thomas noticed the sobbing subsided.

He paused, pulling his hand back to go back to sleep when he felt a hand grab his wrist. He yelped in surprised but peered down to see Newt’s face looking up at him in the dim room. Tears glistened on his cheeks.

“Don’t go,” he whispered.

Thomas didn’t hesitate to scooch in next to Newt. They lay next to each other with Newt still clutching onto Thomas’s wrist. In any other situation Thomas would have felt completely uncomfortable but with Newt he just felt… happy. Happy to help him.

Newt apparently felt the same because before Thomas could ask why he was crying, he fell back asleep.

Newt’s breath became even and steady and Thomas was glad to note that the crying was completely gone.

He wondered what Newt had gone through to give him nightmares like that. Thomas could recall waking up to some of his own nightmares in tears. Had Newt faced something just as traumatic? Or worse?

Thomas’s stomach twisted at the thought of Newt being hurt or in danger at all.

He brushed a hand through Newt’s curls and Newt sighed contentedly.

Thomas was sure this would be awkward in the morning, but for now he was at ease. For now he could forget WCKD and being a warlock and nightmares.

Newt was the only think that existed in that moment.

Thomas slept better than he had in months that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to apologize for how long it took me to get his chapter out! Work has had me swamped lately, I've been helping my mom prepare her wedding, and, to put the cherry on top of the cake, I've recently started reading the Percy Jackson series so what little free time I have is usually squandered by reading those books!   
> I promise this fic is still near the beginning of my list of priorities so it will not be abandoned!   
> Thank you all for staying with me this long! I love you all!


	4. You've Got that Look In Your Eye

When Thomas woke up Newt still had a viselike grip on his wrist. Thomas tried to shift to get in a more comfortable position but Newt seemed to be a heavy sleeper. Thomas’s movement only caused the angle of Newt’s grip to become painful, the pressure of the grip making Thomas’s soul-cover dig into his skin.

The thought of the soul-cover made Thomas feel a little nauseous. Here he was in bed with a beautiful boy, a beautiful boy who wasn’t his soulmate.

Newt sighed, his breath ghosting across Thomas’s face. Thomas blushed, realizing how close his face was to Newt. He made to attempt to shuffle away again when he saw Newt’s eyes flutter open. The sun slipped in through the window making his hair shine gold.

“Hey,” Newt whispered sleepily, smiling. All thoughts about Thomas’s soulmate fled his brain.

“Hey,” Thomas whispered back, blinking at how perfect Newt seemed to be. It wasn’t exactly Newt’s physical appearance that made Thomas think he was perfect. It was his expression. All the lines had smoothed out of his face and he seemed relaxed, more relaxed than Thomas had ever seen.

“What?” Newt asked, noticing Thomas staring at him.

“You’re beautiful.”

Thomas had never wanted to shove words back in his mouth more than he did at that moment, afraid of Newt’s reaction. But, to his surprise, Newt snorted.

“Does that kind of talk win over all the boys?” Newt teased, raising his eyebrow good naturedly at Thomas.

Thomas grinned, propping himself up on his arm to look down at Newt who was still smiling up at him with a tantalizing expression.

“Well if you don’t appreciate my verbal skills then I’ll have to show you my affections some other way,” Thomas said, enjoying the color rising to Newt’s face at his words.

Newt propped himself on the headboard, reaching eyelevel with Thomas. “In what ways were you thinking?” Newt challenged. He looked at Thomas with an intensity he had never seen anyone look at him with before. It sent a shiver down Thomas’s spine. Newt started to lean toward Thomas’s face and Thomas felt himself incline closer, breath ghosting over each other’s faces when—

BAM!

Their heads shot around to look at the door which had slammed open at top speed. “WAKE UP SHUCK-FACES, IT’S TRAINING DAY NUMBER ONE!” Minho screamed, standing in the doorway, wearing an electric blue house coat with his arms spread wide like a strange exotic bird. Two mugs of coffee was clasped in each of his hands. He looked down and whistled when he saw the scene in front of him.

“Way to get some, Newty! I knew you were suave enough to get laid!” Minho said, a shit eating grin on his face.

Newt shot away from Thomas at lightning speed, nearly falling off the end of the bed in his haste.

“Nothing happened! We didn’t bloody shag!” Newt yelled at Minho, a mortified expression on his face.

Minho gave him a disbelieving look.

“The pull out couch was uncomfortable and I wasn’t going to let him sleep on it!” Newt lied but Thomas was good enough to not say anything. He wouldn’t want to admit to having nightmares either.

‘Whatever you say Newt,” Minho teased, walking into the room and setting two of the coffees down on the nightstand. At Newts murderous expression he raised his hands in mock surrender, slowly backing out of the room, a smirk still adorning his face. “You and lover boy need to head down to breakfast. Gally said he wants to start training young Tommy here and you know how he feels about waiting.”

With that Minho made a mock salute at the two, nearly spilling his other coffees in the process, but he didn’t seem to notice. When he left silence descended over the two. Newt still looked tense, sitting as far away from Thomas as possible.

“Did he just call you Newty?” Thomas asked, teasing to break the awkward silence.

Newt groaned, tension releasing from his shoulders. “He only calls me that to bloody piss me off,” Newt said, sliding off the bed to rifle through his drawers for clothes.

“I can see why he does it. It’s kind of fun to piss you off…Newty,” Thomas said, laughing and leaping off the bed when Newt through a pair of shorts at him in annoyance.

“Careful, Newty, you might hurt someone with your clothes,” Thomas joked, dodging several well aimed shirts and running down the stairs laughing.

“Minho, I’m gonna bloody kill you for teaching him that!” Newt yelled, down the stairs, but Thomas could hear the smile in his voice.

He only hoped his training would be as entertaining as being with Newt was.

 

Gally had wasted no time in starting Thomas’s training. Thomas had barely shoved a piece of toast in his mouth before Gally was grilling him about herbs and runes and god knows what else. Thomas didn’t exactly pride himself on his ability to pay attention.

He had just downed his first cup of coffee when Gally said something of real interest. “I want you to start practicing healing,” he said. “Don’t make me regret telling you to start this early,” Gally continued when he saw Thomas’s look of excitement.

As it turns out, Warlock training was not exciting for Thomas at all. In fact, it was quite difficult to learn how to do basic healing without a rune and since no one was injured he got to purposely stabbing little cuts into himself or breaking a toe only to heal it. When Gally had suggested Thomas do such he was flabbergasted.

“You want me to _what_?” Thomas demanded. Gally passed him a steak knife.

“You need to heal. You can’t heal if you’re not hurt,” Gally said stoic faced.

“I’m _not_ stabbing myself Gally! You may not like me, but I quite enjoy being in one piece!” Thomas said, pushing the knife away from him with disdain. Gally rolled his eyes and pushed the knife back toward Thomas.

“You don’t have to cut off your shuck fingers! Just poke yourself on the thumb or something,” Gally said.

Thomas picked the knife up and stared at it warily. He went to prick himself on the finger when Newt spoke up.

“Wait, you can practice healing on me. I don’t mind bleeding a little,” Thomas looked over to see Newt who had been studiously reading holding a hand out for the knife. He looked uncomfortable at the thought of Thomas hurting himself even if it only was a little. It made Thomas blush.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a little pain,” Thomas said before pricking himself with the knife. He hissed and shook his hand.

 Gally didn’t seem to mind his pain, but it seemed to make Newt tense. “Okay Greenie, now that you have a coven you’re powers should be strong. All you need to do is kick start your powers and it’ll be like a floodgate opening. The first magic is always some of the hardest, so don’t expect any results right way,” Gally said. His teaching had caused some of the anger to smooth out of his face. Thomas thought he looked better that way and nodded quickly to show Gally he was listening.

“What you need to do is focus inside you. You need to locate the powers of the warlocks around you. Try and make your body focus on our power. When you feel our strength you should start to feel some of your own. We don’t know what you derive your power from so try to feel some sort of connection to an emotion or element or something when you find your power. Focus on it and _will_ it to heal your cut,” Gally said all this like it was basic instructions. He made it seem like Thomas was trying to bake brownies, not use freaking magic to heal a wound.

Thomas took a deep breath and eyed his cut. “Focus on the covens powers first. Got it,” he said, reciting the steps more for himself than for anything. And he did focus. He focused. And focused. And focused and _focused_ and focused some more. He spent so long trying to find some sort of connection to the others powers he had to reopen his cut because it had clotted on its own.

Finally Newt sighed, closing his book. He leaned toward Thomas and took both his hands.

“Tommy, try to feel my power first. Can you try and pinpoint my magic?” Newt said softly.

Thomas closed his eyes and focused on Newt’s pulse. He breathed in Newt’s scent. It was like pine and rain after a storm.

And then he felt it.

It was hard to explain. It was like some sort of green and light energy formed behind Thomas’s eyes and it swirled into a tightly packed glittering ball. Somehow Thomas just knew it was Newt’s magic he was sensing. After finding Newt he could sense the others more easily.

He found Teresa’s energy. It was red and flickering, like it was trying to run rampant over Thomas’s mind. Gally’s was a steady dark purple fog while Minho’s was an electric blue, like lightning dancing across his vision.

So there was all their powers, but he couldn’t find anything that Thomas would consider his own. How could he heal himself if he couldn’t find his own power? Maybe Newt was wrong and he wasn’t a warlock at all. Maybe he didn’t have a power. How disappointed would Newt be if Thomas wasn’t a warlock?

Newt. Beautiful Newt who had shared his room with Thomas. Newt with the golden hair, the easy smile, the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled…

It was then that Thomas sensed something else. Except that it wasn’t coming from the outside. It was something rooted deep in his chest, blossoming like a flower, filling him up like water in a cup. It was deep and pink and rich. It reminded him of paint running down a canvas.

He had found his power.

Thomas thought of his finger healing and felt a tingling sensation on the tip. He opened his eyes to examine a perfectly healed cut and a gaping Newt.

“How did you do it that fast?!? It took me nearly a week before I could heal a single cut. Did you see how quickly he got that Gally?” Newt asked, turning to look at Gally who was still grimacing.      

Gally watched with a disapproving glare. “Not fast enough,” he griped. Thomas stuck his tongue out at him. He regretted it when he realized how childish it looked, but Newt started laughing. He grinned at Newt. He’d have to start doing more childish things if it meant Newt would laugh.

Gally crossed his arms. “You might have learned healing spells on yourself, but you still have to learn how to preform healing on other people,” he said.

Thomas saw Newt open his mouth to offer to be the person Thomas healed but Gally interjected.

“Not you, Newt. I need to make sure Thomas can use his powers without your shuck face around.”

Newt and Gally argued and complained but eventually Newt gave in to Gally’s increasing stubbornness went up the stairs. Thomas hated that he missed Newt almost immediately.

After Newt had disappeared up the stairs Gally took his now vacant seat and then proceeded to cut a thin line down his palm and held it up to Thomas.

Admittedly it took Thomas quite a few hours before he was able to heal Gally’s cut, much to Gally’s annoyance. He made Thomas do it a second time for good measure. \

Thomas found that he was able to use his magic the best when he thought about Newt. He didn’t like to think about what that might mean.

 Even so, Thomas didn’t like working without Newt, but he had to admit he was more focused without his pretty lips around to distract him. _Shit_. He shouldn’t be thinking like that.

 

 

Suddenly there were snapping fingers in front of his face. “Are you listening to a word I said Greenie?” Gally demanded.

Thomas blinked up at him, wanting to say something sassy in return, but the only thing that would come to his mind were the image of Newt’s lips.

“Silence. Great. Figures. Why do I even try?” Gally said to himself before turning back to Thomas. “I said I want you get a healing rune,” Gally said.  

“What?,” Thomas said stupidly, surprised at Gally letting him take the next step in his training so early.

“Runes. I want you to get a rune, shuck head. You know, the tattoos on our body that help amplify our power,” Gally, said looking exasperated.

“I know what you mean! You’ve only explained them a hundred times! I just wasn’t expecting you to let me get one,” Thomas said.

Gally rolled his eyes. “The only way you’ll be able to heal major wounds is with a healing rune. We all have them. I might not like you, Greenie, but I have to except that you’re one of us now. And if you’re one of us I need to make sure you can help us not get killed if that time arises.”

Thomas nodded.

“Now, you need to pick a spot you want it on and pick a person,” Gally instructed.

“A person?” Thomas asked.

“Good God, Greenie, do you not listen to anything I say at all?” Gally demanded.

Thomas blinked, confused, and Minho laughed at him from the couch in the living room.

“Go easy on him, Gally. Tom can’t help it if his shuck head is full of dust,” Minho jested.

Thomas threw a pencil at him but Minho dogged it.

Gally threw his arms up and grumbled in frustration. Thomas liked when Minho had spoken up during his training. He was one of the only people in his coven that had the ability to keep Gally calm. Well, more calm than usual.

“So, what about a person?” Thomas asked, coming back to his training.

Gally sighed, rubbing his temples. “You need to pick a coven member to put a rune on you. All runes have to be done by another warlock. You can’t put one on your body by yourself. That’s why having a coven is so integral.”

Thomas paused. “Oh. So are you going to put the healing rune on me?”

Gally reeled back like he had been stung. “No way in shuck hell, Greenie!”

=Even though Thomas wasn’t Gally’s number one fan, he couldn’t help but feel a little hurt by his reaction, but Minho laughed.

“Try not to be offended, Tom. Having a coven member put a rune on you is very… intimate and personal. The stronger your bond with the person the stronger the rune is. And—well—I wouldn’t exactly say you and Gally are the best of pals.”

Gally rubbed his left hand and plucked at the glove he had on, a nervous habit Thomas had noticed him doing.

“Fine… I think I know who to ask,” He said, getting up and offering Gally a smile. Gally looked like he would throw Thomas to a pack of wolves if he could.

Thomas rolled his eyes and left the kitchen and walked up the stairs to Newt’s and his bedroom.

Newt was sitting on the floor, surrounded by mounds of dirt.

It looked like some weird sort of ceremony.

“Uhh… am I interrupting something?” Thomas asked. Newt turned away from the dirst to smile.

“Hi, Tommy. You can come in. I’m just figuring out which dirt has the best nutrients. I want to plant some petunias soon.”

Thomas nodded. He had noticed that Newt, getting his magic from nature, was often surrounded by gross, naturey things. Apparently dirt was no acceptation. It was kind of endearing to be honest.

“So why couldn’t you figure that out outside? You know, where dirt is supposed to be?” he teased Newt and Newt smiled playfully.  

“What did you need, Tommy? Unless you came just to harass me about my dirt?” Newt said, standing and crossing his arms.

Suddenly, Thomas was at a loss for words. He rubbed his neck awkwardly.

“Gally thinks I should get a rune,” Thomas started.

Newt blinked. “Oh. That’s… nice,” he said, moving to the window sill to fiddle with his plants.

“I suppose Minho or Teresa will be doing it for you? You seem pretty close with them,” Newt asked, not looking Thomas in the eye.

Thomas took a deep breath. “Actually, I was wondering if you would maybe…, possibly…, do it?”

Newt turned to look at him with an unreadable expression.

“I mean, it’s fine if you can’t! I really shouldn’t have asked! You’re busy with your plants and—”

“Yes,” Newt said.

“—wait. What?” Thomas said, cocking his head to the side and giving Newt a puzzled expression.

“Yes, I’d be honored to put your first rune on you Tommy.” Newt said, a smile spreading over his face.

Thomas was sure he looked so ecstatic he might as well have swallowed the sun.

“That’s—that’s great! So, what do we do?” Thomas asked, grinning dopily at Newt.

Newt flushed and turned to wipe his hands on a towel to rid himself of the dirt on his hands. “I suppose we should go out into the grove. My powers are strongest when I’m surrounded by nature and you want the rune to be as powerful as it can be.”

Thomas nodded.

“I need to gather some supplies for the ritual. I would suggest you go out there and try to cleanse yourself of your negative thoughts and emotions. It will make the connection easier to forge,” Newt said while pulling drawers filled with vials and jars of things Thomas could only dream of identifying.

“Connection?” he asked but Newt just waved a hand at him absentmindedly. Yet Thomas could see the tension underneath his calm mask. Newt was nervous about this. 

“I’ll explain it when I get out there,” said Newt. “Now shoo, I have things to prepare,” Newt said ushering Thomas out the door.

 

Thomas had walked down to the grove and spent what felt like hours there since leaving Newt in his room. He had laid near the lavender plants (his personal favorite) and tried to focus on keeping his breathing even and steady. He was supposed to be “cleansing” himself. He didn’t really understand quite how to do that, but in an effort he tried to make sure every thought that had ever bothered him be banished from his mind. But, in a twist of cruel irony, it only seemed to bring every bad thought to the forefront of his thoughts.

One of the newer thoughts that had been plaguing him where actually of his mother. He had tried to call her that day to make up after the argument they had over his parentage. He had come to terms with his being a warlock. Yes, she had lied to him, but he didn’t want their relationship to suffer because he couldn’t let go of a grudge. It would take time for him to forgive her, but he was certain he could do it. The problem was that she wasn’t picking up her phone. Gally had suggested that she might have sobered up and realized that her son was a shuck head and didn’t want to talk to him. Thomas knew that wasn’t like her. She _always_ answered. Her silence worried him more than he’d like to admit.

“Tommy?”

Thomas sat up at Newt’s voice. Newt was carrying a bag of supplies and looked a little ruffled.

“Is it time?” he asked excitedly.

Newt nodded and sat down next to Thomas. “Usually the best place for a healing rune is on the rib cage or the back. Do you have a preference?” Newt asked.

“Er, ribs I guess?” Thomas said, choosing one at random.

Newt chuckled. “Do you have a fetish for pain or something? Ribs are said to be one of the most painful areas to get a rune” he asked.

“I want to be able to see you when you put it on me,” Thomas said. Newt turned pink and Thomas realized how coupley he had sounded.

Newt reached out to poke Thomas’s shirt. “You’re going to need to take this off.”

Thomas did as he was told. He noticed Newt eye him and blush. Newt turned away quickly to rummage through his bag, attempting to hide his blush.

He pulled out a motor and pestle and began grinding herbs into it.

“What’s that?” Thomas asked.

“I have to put this salve over the area I’ll be putting the rune on. It’ll begin to establish the connection between us that’s needed for the rune,” Newt said dipping his fingers in the concoction.

Newt gingerly reached forward and touched Thomas’s rib cage with the salve.

Thomas gasped.

It was like he could feel everything Newt was feeling. A sudden rush of nerves and excitement came over him. It was like every emotion he had was multiplied by two except somehow he knew the emotions he felt were Newts. He could feel every breath that entered Newt’s body, every beat of his heart, the blood in his veins.

Desire washed over his body. It was as if he wanted to become a part of Newt himself. He wanted their very body and soul to feel connected. He felt as though any separation from Newt would cause him physical pain.

Newt let out a high pitched wine that alerted Thomas to the fact the he felt the same.

They crowed in each other’s space. Thomas ran his hands up and down Newt’s arms, and shoved his face in the crook of Newt’s neck.

“T-tommy, stop,” Newt whispered.

“Hmm?” Thomas asked, pulling his head up to rub his nose along Newt’s cheek.

“I still have to put your rune on you,” Newt said, pushing at Thomas’s chest. Thomas allowed himself to be pushed onto his back by Newt. Logically, he knew that was Newt was saying made sense, but he found himself only wanting to reach out and touch Newt again. He dug his hands in the grass to refrain from doing so.

Newt pulled out what looked like an incense stick and began drawing a symbol into the salve that he had put on Thomas.

Thomas dragged in a stuttering breath and he felt Newt falter in his movements as if he was having trouble focusing as well.

“I didn’t realize how strong the connection would be,” Newt muttered as he bent over Thomas, working away at the rune.

“Haven’t you ever done this before?” Thomas asked, staring up at Newt. Newt’s eyes flickered over to him before returning to the rune.

“No… you’re the only one that’s ever asked me. Minho and Gally have always done each other’s. Teresa had most of hers before she joined. I only ever received runes from an old… friend of mine. The connection wasn’t nearly as strong as this,” he said, his voice sounding strained from the effort of not rubbing himself all over Thomas.

Finally, Newt put down the stick. “This might hurt a little,” he said, giving Thomas a weary look. He placed his hand over the rune and a green light flowed from his palm. Thomas felt a burning sensation and the need to touch Newt intensified. When the light stopped flowing Thomas looked down to see a set of intricate symbols etched into his skin. Like three circles overlapping each other.

“Wow,” he whispered. He could feel its power coursing through him. When he looked up he could see Newt looked tired, like he was drained.

Newt reached out with one hand and rested it against Thomas’s chest.

“Can I?” Newt asked, and Thomas knew immediately what he was asking for. The need to touch was still there. He nodded and gathered Newt up in his arms. Newt rested his head on Thomas’s shoulders and sighed contentedly, his hands fisting in Thomas’s hair.

“How long will the connection last?” Thomas asked, absentmindedly running his fingers across Newt’s back. Newt hummed appreciatively.

“Shouldn’t be more than a few hours. Once it’s severed we’ll go back to normal and you’ll have yourself a fancy healing rune to show off,” Newt said, dropping his hands to wrap his arms around Thomas’s waist to hold him tighter.

“Thank you,” Thomas said, turning his head to bury his face in Newt’s hair.

“For what?” Newt whispered into Thomas’s skin.

“For everything really. But right now I’m just thankful that you were the one to give me the rune,” Thomas said, realizing he might be being a little too honest. Newt didn’t seem to mind though. He just sat in Thomas’s lap, holding him like no one had ever held Thomas before.

He found himself hoping the connection would take more than a few hours to wear off.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize for how long it took me to post this chapter! Life has been punching me in the face lately with responsibilities so I've been so so so busy!  
> This chapters not as long as I would like, but I felt like my loyal readers deserved something since I've taken so long. Sorry again!  
> I would also like to thank everyone who commented because it really inspires me to write! You're all angels! I love you all!


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